Magic in the Sky...the Release of Condors from Captivity...

       I believe in the beauty that takes my breath away. I believe in love at first sight and miracles that happen more often than we notice.  I witnessed such a moment tonight as I watched a year old video of a female Condor being released into the wild after a life-saving twenty-two years in captivity.
      I probably watched the video fifteen times as I witnessed what I consider, a miracle. She was a huge raptor with a wingspan of ten feet. It seemed the color of her head was black with a large chocker of white feathers around her neck. The feathers on her massive wings appeared to be black with a touch of silver slipping in and out the black feathers almost the way a woman's hair slowly turns silver. Subtle, but there in the mixture. The Condor did not know what to do. She looked at the massive expanse of canyons in Utah. Hesitating, she turned and looked at the crowd. There were probably a lot of faces she recognized.  She was unsure and tense. The crowd could feel it as well as the video viewers. Something seemed wrong to her. Then she saw other Condors soaring around and through the canyon.  She flapped her wings, flexed her muscles, wanting to fly but changed her mind. She was still unsure what freedom looked or felt like. Her gaze returned to the canyon. She looked it over from top to bottom and from side to side. She wanted to fly but was unsure and afraid. Again she turned to the crowd and scanned the people perhaps asking permission to do the unthinkable. I do not know if she found what she was looking for. She turned once again and repeated the take-off process. Once again she spread her huge wings and for a split second, I thought she would fly. Not this time but soon. The crowd and viewers became as tense as the Condor. No one knew what to do. The ball was in the Condor's court. She was the one calling the shots and the one who had to make the play.  Finally, with all the excitement and courage she could muster she stepped off the huge cliff and flew. She didn't just fly, she soared up, over and through the canyon and the sky. She was in her element and she liked it. It was an amazing sight to see. I wish I could have been there in person but I am easy going.  I take what I can get and enjoy to the maximum. This was a remarkable video. I want to thank Paul Chamberlain in England for always adding this magic to the pot from his side of the pond. Thank you, my friend

     
   
                                             

It Has Been a Long Time Coming...

      Tommy died fifteen months and ten days ago. My mind and my heart followed him to the grave. We were married 48 years and I loved him with all my being. With his death, everything in my life changed.  Where I lived, what I ate, how I ate, my income, my health, my friends, my church, my doctors, even my weight. I lost fifty pounds. Everything in my life changed in a matter of days and weeks. I did not want any of the new changes...except the weight. However, I can think of better ways to lose weight.  I was in a 'fog'.  I call it 'brain dead'.  This is a term used for widows who cannot retain a memory or thought for any length of time.  It is as real as cancer and almost as deadly.  I have very few memories of the funeral. I do not know who was there. I am thankful for all who attended. Tommy was loved by many people.  I have very few memories of the following year. I hear the girls talk and I ask them if I was there.  Usually, they say 'yes'.  It is all news to me. 
    Two weeks after Tommy died I had my right kidney removed due to cancer.  I do not know what hospital I was in.  Nor do I know my doctor's name. The only memory I have of him is that in my mind he looked like Kurt Russell.  I have no clue if he did or not.  I was also in the room with a mean Russian lady.  I wouldn't bet on that one either.  I had a year of Octobers and every day was Friday... and I drove a car in this condition. I picked out a place to live in Fulton and moved in.  I do not remember finding the house. But I do remember moving...sort of.  
    My short term memory is getting better.  My long term memory is normal except for the last two years. They remain sketchy on a good day and are absent on a bad day.  Jesus and my sense of humor have helped me get to where I am today.  I would not want to live without either one.  I am forever indebted to my family and friends. They stepped up and helped me when I could not help myself. 
   I miss reading and music. I can not concentrate long enough to read a book and music makes me cry.  However, I can laugh again. If I had to pick between the four loves missing in my life, I would pick laughter and writing. I am so glad they are back.  I think as I heal the other two loves will fall into place again. 
   When I started this post tonight, what I thought and what I wrote are two different blogs. This blog is more serious than the one I intended to write. I guess that blog will want to be written on another day or night.  I have missed you all.  Much love to all...good night.

The First Ten Months...Part 1

Tommy died ten months ago. I still have no plan for a life without him. I try to create scenarios where I make some sort of plan. It fails miserably, or I forget from one day to the next what my plan of attack for life was supposed to be. So I make a new plan and repeat the process all over again. 
 The truth of the matter is, I want my life back. I really don't want a new life.  I loved my old life. We were happy and very much in love. We were two odd ducks that belonged together. We didn't always act the way we should but we never stopped loving each other. We were married for  48 years and I miss him.  I long to talk to my best friend. I hear him in my head and I know what he would say.  But still...
   It is that simple and that complicated. Tommy died and I didn't.  Honestly, that isn't what I had in mind at all.  I never thought much about death.  We were young and then we weren't.  In my mind, we would die together either in a car wreck or a plane crash. Whatever happened we would be together. We actually had this conversation several times in our life together.  It didn't work out that way and I am mad.  I am angry with Tommy for dying.  I am mad at me for being alive without him with no plan to continue. I miss my old life and I want it back.  And I can't have it. So here I am ten months after Tommy died and I am no closer to living than I was the day after he died. Each day I get up and think, 'ok world what are we gonna do today' and the world does not respond. I make a list of things I could do and then immediately throw the list away.  Most people think I should have moved on and started living.  I am trying. I am trying!! I have nothing that moves me.  It is all 'busy work'.  My short term memory sucks. If I did remember something it is gone by the next day. This odd condition is caused by 'grieving' and 'stress'. Two emotions that have their own agenda to run. There is a good chance I suffer from memory loss from the two long operations I had. The first was the double knee replacement. The other was when my right kidney was removed about two weeks after Tommy died. It was cancer. They got it all and I am on no meds for it. As it stands I am on cancers timetable. Hopefully, we will never meet again. 
   Am I having a pity party today?  Probably. Do I care?  Not one bit. 

Welcome 2019...

   As I write this I am drinking my second cup of coffee in 2019. I am enjoying talking to the early bird risers on FaceBook. I took a quick look at the weather and news. Both could be a whole lot better. I didn't make any New Year's Resolutions last night. I don't think I have ever done this before in my life. I could not think of anything. All I know for sure--I want a new life. A better happy life. My priorities have changed a lot in this past year. We shall see how that plays out in real life. It is the first time in my life that I am only responsible for me. If I don't do it---then it doesn't get done. I am responsible for me and only me. That is kind of a scary thought coming from a woman who had eleven months of "October and one month of December and all 365 days were Friday." The good news I know it is January 1,2019. As for what day of the week it really is? let us say I don't think it is Friday but I wouldn't want to bet my Social Security on the other six days.
  I wanted to touch base with everyone. Thank you for your support this past year. Thank you for standing in the gap for me when I couldn't hold two thoughts together. I have never in my life been this broken. I feel like a jigsaw puzzle that is missing a few pieces. Nothing fits. But that will change with time and I do believe it will happen in 2019. Being willing to accept what cannot be changed is the beginning of healing. 
  I want to thank my daughters, grandchildren, Becky, Darla, Joanie and Barbara and all my friends from long ago. I love you all and am so blessed to have you in my life. I also want to thank all my FaceBook friends that I have built a strong relationship with over these past years. We have never met in person but you probably know me better than my neighbors do and half my family.  I love you all and you are vital to me.  And so important in my life I count on you. When I count my blessings I count you all twice. Here's hoping the New Year is kind to all of us. That we open ourselves to new adventures and new ways to see the old world.  Much love to all, Vicky  

Miz Vicky Gets a Tattoo...Part 2

  When Lisa and I entered the Tattoo parlor, we entered another world. I knew as soon as I walked through the doors, I was in for a new adventure. I could not imagine what the next five or six hours held for us. I knew one fact and one fact only. We were going to have a good time...and have a good time we did.
  It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when we sauntered through the tattoo shop doors. It is a huge place with artwork and oddities all over the walls.  The first thing I saw was a car with a bear rug underneath it.

 I could not take everything in with one look.  The room was as

varied as the people who worked there. There was one young man in a chair waiting for someone to wander in needing his services. His name was "Coop" adorable and funny but not a happy camper.  We were his first customers all day. It was around 4 o'clock and he needed to earn some money. We were more than glad to oblige because we needed two tattoos. As we were making plans for our tattoos a young woman with three children busted through the door.  She was this side of mad.  She yells at Coop to watch the children. One little boy was about five, the second little boy may have been three and the third one was in an infant seat asleep.  She plopped the baby on the counter by us and took off in a rant to an office that we thought was vacant.  The baby slept. The two brothers got in a shoving match and one started crying. Coop jumped up, separated the boys and came back to work on our sketch. I asked are these yours?  He said, "God NO!!" and answered the phone. About this time the mother comes out of the office mad as all get out and rushes out the door, leaving the children behind. Coup writes in an appointment and hangs the phone up. He asked us to watch the baby while he gets the other two set up watching cartoons. About this time the baby wakes up and starts to cry. Coup runs back in the office grabs the baby and runs out the door to an apartment across the street. He is gone long enough to change a diaper. I guess he phoned the manager and asked him to come out of his office and keep an eye on the place just in case he had read us wrong and we were either thieves or kidnappers. The owner knew we were harmless but made small talk with us until Coop arrived from his mission. 

When Coop arrived with the baby in tow we once again discussed our tattoos for about three seconds. That is when another tattoo artist arrives. He is talking up a storm to no one in particular. He had not had a good day either.  About this time I have to go to the bathroom. I asked if I could use theirs. Coop said they didn't have one in their part of the building but I could use the one in the hallway. Fine by me. When I get to the hallway there are two doors the first one was locked and the second one opened into a bar.  When I opened the back door to the bar, everyone turned to see why I was coming in the back door. I no longer have any inhibitions. I do not care what people think. I am so done with that.  It is very 'freeing' to feel this way. So I just told them I had to use the bathroom and the other door was locked. The lady bartender told me I had not walked far enough. The bathroom was around the corner from the locked door. I smiled and started to order a Salty Dog when I figured I had better get back to Lisa. I turned around and made my exit. I found the bathroom and was back in the tattoo shop in no time at all.  Everything was still a little on the chaotic 

      side. The manager went back to his office, the three children were still there. The mother was AWOL, three teenagers had arrived wanting body piercings. The lady who did body piercings was the AWOL mother.  Lisa and I looked at each other and laughed.  

Finally, it was time for our tattoos. Coop was as ready as he was going to be that night. I wanted to go first. We had this all planned and programmed. All I had to do was sit still and let the artist work his magic.  He started with my 'swath of blue background'. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would but my arm started bleeding and Coop was worried. He said it shouldn't be doing that. There was nothing I could do about that. It is just my skin. That is when he asked me how old I am. I told him and he hung his head for a few seconds. He thought I was younger than I am and he was not prepared for the thin skin. Finally, it quit bleeding and the words were completed in a flash, However, I have a blue semi arch at the beginning that looks like it has the makings of being a comet. Anyway, that is what I am gonna do to fix it. Add a silver star at the beginning and throw a couple more stars in the mix and be done with it. It will be pretty when those things are added.

Next, it was Lisa's turn. She was as excited as I was. This was a good day for us. Her tattoo went smoothly. Coop was done in no time at all. Her tattoo was perfect.

I think Lisa'a tattoo is great. As we finished up and I paid Coop, he said, "it is dark and I want to walk you ladies out." He opened the door for us. We were still cutting jokes and laughing. Coop gave each of us a hug and a kiss on top of our heads. He said for us to stay safe and to not make this my last tattoo. Sorry Coop but this is it. I got what I wanted.  "If Not Now...When?" is just what I wanted and the experience was even better.

Miz Vicky Gets Her First and Last Tattoo...Part 1

  I can check another 'want to' plan off my bucket list. I have my first and last tattoo.    
 When Tommy joined the Marines his mother made him promise never to get a tattoo. He kept that promise. However, he did not want me to get one. He never was a fan of tattoo's on anyone. So I told him that as long as he lived I would not get a tattoo. This statement ushered in years of laughter, jokes, and discord. 
  Tommy watched t.v. all the time after we retired unless we had plans to do something. I can go days without turning on the television. My joke and promise to Tommy was if he died first...the remote would go with him. And it did.
  He always told me that he knew I would get a tattoo no matter how old I was if he died first. He was right. I did.
 He intended to fill my casket with all my art supplies and books put me in a boat and float me down the river. We made up all sorts of funny morbid stuff. We knew it was a lifetime away. And then one day it wasn't.
  I never knew what tattoo I wanted. It changed from year to year. I am so glad I did not get the symbol of a hand shooting the bird on my wazoo. I had that one picked out for years when I was young and wore bikinis. It would show above the bikini line. Why??? Who knows. We did a lot of crazy things back then. 
  Several months after Tommy died, I went to Florida to spend some time with Lisa and Lisle. That is when Lisa and I decided it was time for the 'tattoo'. I finally decided on the words, " If not now, when?" That is my new motto for life. Lisa got a dandelion blowing in the wind, with the words "Just Breathe".
   When we entered the tattoo parlor, we walked into another way of life. It was one of the best days of my life...so far.
   

Foot Massage and a Contender for Pimp of the Year...

   Lisa took me Saturday to get a foot massage and pedicure.  We stopped at a little Oriental shop.  We were introduced to  the people who would be working on us for the next hour. Included in the pedicure was a massage from the chair we were sitting in.  I had not experienced the pleasure of either. The lady who worked on me was nice but only spoke very broken Engish to me. Lisa and I picked out a dark sapphire shade of blue for our toes.  I am assuming after the toes were done she turned my machine on high and left.
   Lisa had a fiesty Asian young man with a great sense of humor. We hit it off immediately. He thought I needed a boyfriend. I assured him I did not and that I was fine. He said,
"You color your hair and you look fifteen years younger,"  I laughed and told him I didn't want to color my hair. I earned every one of these silver hairs and I like them."  He wasn't satisfied. He kept on talking b.s. for the duration of the pedicure. He informed me if I got some slinky clothes I could have a wonderful a wonderful time at some club he knows. He offered to introduce me to some of his friends. I laughed and asked him if he was a pimp or an escort?  He just laughed and never did answer the question.
   I do not know who owned the shop. The older lady who worked on me was not amused with his banter.  I thought it was funny.  Lisa and I were laughing and having a good time. That is about the time the older woman returned to adjusted my back massage chair. I thought it was going to beat me to death. I could not have gotten out of that chair by myself if I was dying. Ah, sweet revenge probably from his mother.  Oh well, live and learn.  I bet he got his wazoo chewed after we left. If he got fired, I am sure he knows where to find another job. It is probably called, "The House of the Rising Sun.